


If Walls Could Talk ◦ Michael Clifford

by animechey



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animechey/pseuds/animechey
Summary: They have a history.They have a future.They have secrets.They have promises.Based off 'If Walls Could Talk' by Five Seconds of Summer (duh)© Chey Eveleigh | July 2018





	1. I ◦ Day One, Period One

**◦ rose ◦**

Sighing, the currently black haired girl adjusts the strap of her backpack and walks into the awaiting classroom. Her combat boots softly thud against the linoleum as she walks, causing a couple of eyes to dart to look up at her before quickly moving back down to their phones. The teacher merely looks at the dark haired girl before turning back to the board, motioning at some text and a picture, saying something about analysing wilfred owen poems for their assignment.

Rose sits in her seat at the back of the classroom, easily ignoring the familiar looks of disdain and disgust. Pulling out a battered black notebook, she picks up her pen and begins to write the notes projected onto the board, black ink flowing from the tip of the plastic instrument. Handwriting scrawls across the blue-lined paper in a slow flurry of movement, the curly writing appearing to decorate the page as though it furnishings and the paper a room.

Someone drops into the seat beside her and she looks up to see one half of the curly haired boyfriends. At least it's the one she gets along with. The other is strange in her opinion and they butt heads no matter what they talk about. The half beside her swings on the chair, leaning the back of it against the wall, and then places his hands behind his head, reclining in a comfortable position before looking over at the dark haired girl.

"How are you feeling, Rosie?" the drummer asks, hazel eyes staring into hers mercilessly. "And don't even think about lying to me."

Rose drops her pen and sighs, holding her head in her hands. "Damn it, Ash. It still fucking hurts, and nothing is helping."

"Which part? Family or him?"

"To be completely honest, both of them."

Ashton stays silent, giving her a clear opening to continue.

"My family is falling apart right in front of me, and it's all my fault. All they fight about is me, and it's tearing them apart. I don't know how to fix it, Ash, and that's fucking me up more than I am already."

"Rose, none of this is on you. You're just being yourself."

"And it's destroying my family."

"You can't help who you are - trust me."

Rose snorts. "You're bringing your sexuality into this?"

Ashton places his hand over his heart, mock offended. "I'm hurt, Rosie. I thought you accepted me and my boyfriend."

"Just because I accept you both, doesn't mean I need to like your boy toy."

"I'm curious. What's with you two?"

"We just don't get along - conflicting personalities and all."

"Talk to him one-on-one and get to know him. Fuck, vent to him. That'll get him to know you."

Rose picks her pen back up and begins to scrawl on the paper again, eyes flickering back to the board every few seconds. "I'll do that on one condition."

The drummer groans, setting all chair legs back onto the ground. "Of course it's quid-pro-quo."

"I don't have to do it you know."

"Fine. What do you want?"

"I want you to talk to him for me."

"Hmm? Really?"

"I wouldn't ask if I could face him myself."

"Alright."


	2. II ◦ Day One, Period Two

**◦ rose ◦**

Gritting her teeth, Rose walks into her second class of the day; her least favourite lesson. It's the lesson she shares with the one she entrusted her heart with; the one that crushed it to pieces right in front of her. Luckily for her, there is someone in the class she despises less than him, and it's her best friend's boyfriend - the one she has been told she has to get along with for Ashton to hold up his end of the deal. That being said, Rose reluctantly sits down beside the blond, earning a raised eyebrow and a completely baffled look in response.

"Look, Hemmings," Rose says carefully, looking over into the ice blue eyes. "I probably don't like this any more than you do, but we have to try get along for Ash's sake - and his remaining sanity."

Luke snorts in amusement, rolling his eyes. "He put you up to this, didn't he?"

"I asked him to do something for me, and I ended up having to do this in return."

"Oh? What did you ask him to do?"

"Talk to someone."

"Ah. Is that so? That someone wouldn't happen to be...?"

Rose's grey eyes darken in anger. "Hold your goddamn tongue, or I'll tell Ashton about your little 'incident'."

Luke smirks and raises his eyebrow. "Well played, Romero. Very well played."

"This isn't a game, Luke."

"I know, Rosie. I know. It's just easier to pretend that everything is a game and there's a way to beat it all."

"If this is a game, then is getting along is a boss fight."

"You're damn right it is."

"You're doing a good job with it," a darker skinned male in front of them snaps, causing the two to look up. "Now shut up and pay attention."

The blond smirks. "since when do you care, Calum?"

Rose rolls her eyes and turns her attention to the board, pulling out her maths book and scrawling down the equations on the board. Her eyes keep sliding to the currently red haired male a few rows to her right and one in front of her, and curses keep flying through her mind each time she realises that she's staring again. Pinching herself, she forces herself to concentrate on her work, vaguely aware of the blond beside her giving her worried looks every minute or so.

Luke slides a piece of paper over and Rose reads his messy handwriting.

**_Are you alright?_ **

That's the question she's been waiting for.

_Not really._

_**What's wrong?** _

_I can't stop thinking about him and I keep looking at him without meaning to. I fucking hate it._

_**Damn. I'm sorry, Rosie.** _

_It's alright, Luke. It'll pass eventually. I mean, it has to. It's been almost a year._

_**I guess so...** _

_You don't think so?_

Luke shakes his head sadly, causing Rose's stomach to drop. Her head follows her stomach and hits the desk, the bang resonating in the silent classroom. Feeling all eyes on her, she remains prone on the desk until she feels the looks start to turn their focus back to their work. Looking up a minute later, she accidentally meets the green eyes she had been trying her best to avoid. Clenching her jaw, Rose glares at him for a moment before tearing her gaze away from the alluring one she fell victim to a year ago.

The equations don't hold her interest, and she soon finds her grey gaze flickering back over to where the green gaze is still pinned on her. Rose swallows and feels her eyes begin to sting with unavoidable tears of anger and sadness and regret. Moments later, in a split second decision, the black haired girl jumps out of her seat and runs out of the classroom, drawing attention and unwanted whispers. Boots thudding against the concrete outside, she makes her way to the bathroom, tears frantically trying to escape her unwilling eyes.

Slamming the door to a cubicle shut and locking it, Rose slides down the wall of the cubicle to the toilet paper strewn floor. Sobs force themselves out of her small body and she hugs her knees to her chest, nails digging into the black denim of her skinny jeans. Minutes pass as she sits on the cold, tiled floor, but her tears and misery don't subside as they usually do. Breathing becomes difficult for her, and her breaths begin to shorten, dark spots appearing in the edges of her vision after a fuzzy grey cloud hazes her sight for a moment.

The sound of footsteps on tile diverts her attention slightly, but not enough to regain control of her body. The thing that does better is the sight of her best friend dropping over the top of the wall of the cubicle and sitting down beside her, instantly putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to his chest for a hug. She clutches at the fabric of his band tee and cries harder, the shooting movement of his hand rubbing her back allowing her to regain control of her breathing. Soon her sobs begin to subside, and she's left with a running nose and sniffles. In response, her best friend rips off some toilet paper and hands it to her to blow her nose.

"Thanks, Ash," Rose croaks. blowing her nose and dropping the use toilet paper into the toilet.

"Anything for my bestie," Ash teases, nudging her gently.

"How'd you know?"

"Luke messaged me. He said you ran out of class crying, but that he didn't know why."

"Figures that blond idiot would tell you."

"Yeah. So, wanna tell me why the fuck you ran out of class crying?"

"You know why, and it's not getting any easier. It still fucking hurts, Ash, and all I have to do is meet his eyes."


	3. III ◦ Day One, Recess

**◦ rose ◦**

Ashton and Rose make their way out of the girls bathroom only seconds before the bell for recess sounds, successfully avoiding confrontation and being caught. Although, the whole school knows Ashton has a boyfriend, so they wouldn't really get any ideas about him and Rose doing sexual activities in the girls bathroom. However, they do like to make up rumours and start a shit fest to get their jollies. That's just how high school works, and it goddamn fucking sucks.

Making their way outside, Rose easily finds Luke sitting on a bench under their tree, but he's not alone. A blond is sitting with him, and she can hear is laugh from where she is standing with ashton. Walking over to them, she recognises him as the transfer student for Ireland. Both blond haired, blue eyed males look up as Ash and Rose sit down, their eyes glimmering with delight and amusement.

Luke slides Rose's bag over to her. "Here. You left this in maths."

The black haired girl smiles. "Thanks, Hemmings. You're a lifesaver."

"Yeah, well, get used to it. If you're anything like Ash, I'm gonna be saving your ass now that we're going to be trying to get along."

"How do you think Ash and I met?"

"Wasn't it the dog incident?"

Ashton laughs. "Nope."

"Maccas?"

"Nope."

"I give up then."

Rose chuckles, throwing a grape into Ashton's awaiting mouth. "The can opener incident."

Both Luke and Ashton laugh at just the mention of the 'can opener incident', but the Irish boy just sits there with an amused smile directed at the two laughing teens. Rose smiles at the blond and shifts in her seat, preparing to tell the story.

"Ashton and I met on the first day of year seven, and it was a nightmare," she regales. "We were in food tech, and had to open a can of pineapples to put on our homemade pizzas. I got stuck with this idiot here-" she jabs a thumb at Ashton "-and he didn't know how to do it. He introduced himself by literally saying-"

"'Hi. My name's Ashton, and I don't know how to use a can opener,'" Ashton laughs, mimicking his old, higher pitched voice. "It was fucking gold."

The Irish teen laughs. "Well, that's one way to introduce yourself."

Rose nods in agreement. "If that's the case, how are you going to introduce yourself?"

"My name's Niall, and I'm a completely fucking crazy person."

"Then you'll fit right in here. My name's Rosaline by the way, but, please, I beg of you, call me Rose."

Niall laughs, and Rose has to fight the urge to grin at the infectious noise. Ashton swings one arm around Rose's small shoulders, and the other around Luke's broad shoulders. In that moment, Rose knows that the four of them are going to be very good friends for the remainder of their schooling years, and hopefully surpass the friendships that breakdown after school ends.

"We're going to have a hella lot of fun together," Ashton cheers, causing Rose to close one eye and tilt her head away from her best friends loud voice. "There's no way nothing is going to happen."

Luke rolls his eyes but grins. "Of course, Ash. We're going to make this a year to remember."

Niall laughs. "Longer than that hopefully."

Rose nods in agreement. "There's no way we're giving up on this friendship."


	4. IV ◦ Day One, Period Three

**◦ rose ◦**

Period three of Monday's of Week B are the death of Rose, and she can barely stand sitting in front of the asshole of a teacher that she's been forced to deal with for one of her favourite lessons - art. At least she doesn't share this lesson with anyone she hates. Well, she didn't the previous year anyway. Who knows if someone has transferred classes into hers? There's always that possibility. She does hope that no one decided to do that.

Her hopes are completely obliterated as the door swings open and the red haired male she's trying to avoid walks in, bag on his back and a piece of paper clutched in his pale hands. A growl of annoyance breaks free from her throat and his green eyes flicker to her, instantly knowing that it was Rose who made the noise. The eyes are darker than when she saw them earlier, and they're full of pain. Her lips part in surprise at the sight and her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Are you finally joining us, Mr Clifford?" the art teacher asks smugly, a sickening smirk twisting his rat face up.

Michael's jaw clenches in irritation, but he answers in a calm voice. "Yes."

"Very well. There's a seat next to Miss Romero. Go sit and don't move from that seat."

"Yeah."

Much to Rose's horror, the red haired male does trudge over to her desk and sit down, dropping his bag to the ground and slumping in his new seat. Instinctively, she shuffles away from the taller male. Although she does so, she doesn't miss the flash of pain that flares in the alluring green depths of his eyes. Closing her eyes, she swallows and a shiver traverses her body as his radiating body heat hits her cool skin. That doesn't go unnoticed by the taller male, and worry flares to life in the eyes.

"Are you alright?" Michael asks softly, afraid to scare her away.

Rose tenses at his words. "I'm fine."

"Rose."

"Stop. Please, Michael."

"Can we please talk?"

"What in hell's name would we even fucking talk about? You know damn well that I have  _nothing_  to say to you."

"You might not have anything to say to  _me_ , but  _I've_ got something to say to  _you_."

Rose turns her grey glare to the green eyed boy that broke her heart, watching as those eyes she fell for widen in slight fear. It then ebbs away and is replaced with the sadness she first saw when he walked into the room; the emotion she had never seen before in his eyes is now burning bright without a second of hesitation. The emotion causes her resolve to diminish, and a huff of breath leave her lips, her head dropping forward onto her crossed arms. A groan rumbles in her throat and she pushes herself back up, meeting Michael's green eyes evenly.

"You're going to give yourself a headache doing that," Michael teases, causing Rose to snort. "Don't give me that look. You know I'm telling you the truth."

"If you really want to talk, you're going to have to pick a good time," Rose informs, watching as his eyebrows crease in confusion. "I don't have all the time in the world."

"Is now a good time?"

"We're in class."

"Art class, and, if I remember correctly, you hate this fucker."

"Yeah. Okay. Good point."

"So, you want to do this?" his eyes are worried, as if she won't agree.

"Fucking hell." Rose tugs her hair lightly, a tell of her rising anxiety. "Fine."

Standing up, the black haired girl grabs her bag and walks out of the room, the red haired teenager following her, blatantly ignoring the yells of their asshole of an art teacher. Rose walks in the direction of the senior area, knowing that Michael is following her by the thud of his shoes on the concrete. Pulling out her iPhone, she quickly sends Ashton a text to let him know what is going on, and that she is safe.

Rose sits on one of the tables of the bench seats and pins her grey eyes on the red haired teen standing in front of her. "So? What do you have to say to me?"

Michael sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "How about I start with 'I'm sorry'. Is that alright?"

"Go for your life. It doesn't mean I'm going to forgive you."

"Rosie, I don't have enough words to tell you how fucking sorry I am for what I did to you last year. I know that it is no excuse, but I was blind drunk and had no clue what I was doing. I... I fucked up so bad and I know that, and that's something I have to live with because I can't fix it at all. I wish to god that I could go back and do everything all over again so we aren't in this fucking mess; so we aren't avoiding each other because of the pain we are both in. I fucking hate myself for what I did to you, and it's still haunting me like it was just yesterday it happened. I know you don't feel the same as i do - I know it for a fact - but I still fucking love you, and that's why it still kills as much as it does right now. I don't deserve to have you forgive me for what I've done, and I know that you're not going to ever going to. what I've done has made me hate myself and makes me feel like I want to die. You have no fucking idea how sorry I am, baby. I am so fucking sorry."

By the time Michael has finished, Rose has tears streaking down her face and her breathing rattling out of her with hitches in between each breath. The green eyed male's eyes widen and he runs over to the shorter girl, hesitantly pulling her into a hug. Her head drops against his firm chest and her fingers grip onto his 'The Misfits' jumper. Her tears soak into the black jumper and make it darker than before. The taller boy closes his eyes and lays his head on top of the shorter girls head.

"Rose?" Ashton calls, Luke's deeper voice echoing the call.

Rose borderline reluctantly pulls away from the boy who broke her heart and looks over at her best friend, his boyfriend, and the new Irish student. As soon as the drummer sees her tear-filled eyes, his own hazel eyes darken and he stalks over to them, tearing Michael off her as Luke takes the red headed boy's place. Ashton shoves the shorter male against the brick wall and glares at him with a rage that not even Rose had seen before.

"Whatever you have done to her, for your sake, you better hope she recovers from it," Ashton threatens, his voice deep and deadly and promising. "If she's like this in two days time, you're in fucking trouble, Clifford."

"Ashton," Michael rasps. "I only told her the truth."

"I don't care. You've ripped her apart more than enough, and this is just the icing on the cake that used to be you and her."

Rose lifts her head off Luke's chest and sniffles. "Ash, it's alright. Please. Stop it. He didn't do anything."

Ashton whirls to face her, hazel eyes burning bright with anger. "You're fucking crying, Rosaline!"

"He told me he hates himself; that he wants to die!"


End file.
